


sparklingeyes

by symposiums



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Can It Be A Character Death If The Character Is Immortal?, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27536341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symposiums/pseuds/symposiums
Summary: on a summers night, artemis and aphrodite partake in sweet, sticky corn on the beach.
Relationships: Aphrodite/Artemis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	sparklingeyes

The sea smells thick of salt that it nearly churns her stomach. Waves crash against the dark shore, spray swirling all around them. The faint glow of the moon shimmers off the murky horizon like a fiery reflection of ink. The night has a chill despite summer's song weaving in the air. The fire burns between them as Artemis avoids the gaze of pink eyes piercing through the flames. 

Her fingers are sticky, waxy, from the corn gifted to her by Demeter. The throes of harsh winter have gone upon Persephone’s return and now the bounties of the earth have returned despite their frozen slumber for nearly a century. She licks the gelatinous wax off her lips, nearly half-finished with her ear when Aphrodite sighs. Artemis’ gaze flickers to her.

“Isn’t it wonderful, darling? To sit by firelight amongst the passionate warmth of the night. Why, it’s been so long since I’ve shared a meal like this with someone…”

“Has it?” Artemis quirks an eyebrow. Aphrodite nibbles at her own ear of corn from time to time as if it were a cherished gift. She licks her own lips with a laugh.

“Why, yes! You know, it’s been ages since I have had a fireside meal with  _ any _ one, let alone another companion like myself.”

With the thrill of Demeter’s bounty, Artemis had eagerly accepted Aphrodite’s proposal to share the harvest but being taken to the beach was not what she had expected. Truth be told, it made her fairly uncomfortable; being alone with Aphrodite was not something she preferred..

“Oh, come now Artemis. Am I really that bad of company?”

Artemis chews on a kernel, contemplating her answer. There is a wave-break crashing in the distance. The beach glows purple under the weight of the night with the summer heat causing everything to unfocus in a wonderful haze. 

“No,” Artemis looks down at her corn. The flecks of black peer up at her like beady eyes from a bush. “I just didn’t think you were going to bring me all the way out  _ here _ to eat corn.”

“Oh, I know it’s not your preference… can’t do much hunting on the beach and all, but don’t you miss a summer’s breeze by the ocean? Even you have to admit that it’s a delightful atmosphere! The heat of the night, the thunderous waves crashing…”

“I suppose Uncle Poseidon did outdo himself by making the waves bigger and better than ever upon reuniting with Uncle Hades…” Aphrodite smiles as she begins again at her ear of corn. Artemis’ eyes wander into the fire and over her shoulder to avoid the sticky pinkness of the goddess’ lips. “It’s just that — I’m not particularly fond of the beach is all. It’s hard to move in the sand and there’s not much coverage. It’s not ample for hunting, so I hardly bother.”

“Hunting?” Aphrodite throws her finished ear into the fire. Her fingers remain sticky. “Is there anything else you think of?”

“I’ve no need to.”

There’s a huff on the other side as Aphrodite rolls her eyes picking up another ear. “Really Artemis, what kind of fool do you take me for? Do you really think I would take you out here to seduce you when I fully well know my powers have no stake on you?”

Artemis looks back at her, an odd look on her face. It’s hard to read the look on Aphrodite’s face but the pout is not her usual. It’s a soft frown that reflects back instead. “Why else would you take me out here... alone, on a beach? If we’re not going to hunt.”

Aphrodite rubs her pointer and thumb together, rolling the wax between her fingers. The fingertips of her other hand support her yet to be eaten corn. “Is it really so far out of your depth that perhaps I just want to spend time with you? That I enjoyed your merriment at the feast in the Underworld and missed having a  tête-à-tête with you — outside or war councils, outside of helping Zagreus, outside of my powers?” 

Artemis puts her own ear of corn down, wiping the wax onto her cape. Her eyes move away as Aphrodite licks the stickiness off of her fingers  — an act that comes off more as practical than any sort of sensual. “Well frankly… yes. It seems a little odd. We don’t have much in common.”

“Oh? Don’t we?”

The coyness in her voice makes Artemis uncomfortable. All the Gods feel worlds apart from her, but Aphrodite especially so. How could someone be that comfortable in their skin? The eerie pink glow of her eyes and the warmth of her voice seems disarming, to say the least, and to be alone with her, waves crashing, sharing a feast — the world seems more bizarre than ever. The world remakes itself for the Goddess of Love, as if she were some being outside of anyone’s reach. Running away from her father is easy, regarding Athena at a distance is easy, even being faced in front of Demeter  — despite her chilling presence  — is sure enough to be curt, quick and painless, but it wasn’t as such with Aphrodite who made her feel that she could look into her and see everything,  _ know _ everything before she even spoke.

A breeze cascades her cheeks as Aphrodite’s giggle seems to come from the echoes of her mind. “Brooding as ever, darling. If you want to know what I mean, it’s that we both prefer the company of women.”

“You?” Artemis barked incredulously. “The Goddess of Love having a preference seems a little against your creed, doesn’t it?”

“Just because I copulate with men doesn’t mean that I prefer them and frankly, you’re more of a wonderful conversationalist than  _ any _ man could be.”

Artemis looks at her corn, suddenly no longer feeling hungry; another gnawing feeling in the pit settles in. She takes her time in licking her lips, tasting sea salt. The sounds of water swaying and the crackle of the fire leaves Artemis feeling awkward, out of place, wanting to run, run, run into the cover of darkness.

“Have I flustered you, darling? You always seem to have some sort of quip — ”

“As much as I loathe many of our family members,  _ they _ know how to leave me alone. You, on the other hand…”

Aphrodite’s expression does not waver; she waits, patiently. Her eyes glow across the fire and Artemis thinks about tearing off, not that it would do any good — Aphrodite always finds her anyway as if she’s the huntress and Artemis is the prey.

“You never seem to give up. You always have some motive for everyone else, even poor Zagreus. It’s hard to believe that you don’t have one for me.”

Artemis feels her face grow warm; it's rare she ever says so much around any of the other Gods and Goddesses but she feels like a trapped animal being played with, cat and mouse; something she knows Aphrodite is such an expert at.

“Is it really a surprise that I may be interested in you?” her lips curl into a smile as she tilts her head. The breeze causes her hair to slip to reveal more of her shoulder, shining bronze in the fires light. “Even romantically?”

“I don’t appreciate being played with.”

“Who says it’s a joke? I feel the love you have for your  _ sweet little nymphs _ , isn’t it only fair that I want to experience it myself?”

Artemis meets her gaze with a frown. “I don’t appreciate you talking about them like that.”

Aphrodite stops nibbling at her corn. Her jewelry faintly tingles as she places it back down, slow and deliberate like a beast. “Little goddess, you really think I do not recall that meeting where you accidentally brushed against my — ”

“ _ You don’t _ — need to mention that.”

“Hmm… don’t you think I was aware of your feelings even then?”

Her body stiffens at the recollection of the awkward moment, however long ago it was. She envisions herself as the deer, unaware of its last moments of life. The deafening crash of sea drowns out her own heartbeat pumping in her ears. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, darling.”

“You don’t understand,” Artemis mutters. “None of you ever do.”

“Hmm?” she leans forward, closer to the fire. Artemis glances at her thighs and glances away, swallowing hard. 

“I’m not interested in anything but hunting with my nymphs.”

“Who says that I would take that away from you?”

“Won’t you just give it up? Just because I made contact with your breast  _ one time _ , doesn’t mean I’m interested in doing anything else.”

Aphrodite’s laugh is light, like an aria of the night. The glimmer of the sea seems to sparkle against her as her fingertips reach to touch the skin of her own neck.

“Is it really so hard to believe that perhaps I get lonely sometimes? That perhaps I seek what you have and wish to share that with you?”

“What?” she stares at her. Everything with Aphrodite is a vision of sensual deliberation, meant to be drawn to its fullest in a passionate fury. So how could a woman that is love incarnate ever feel  _ lonely _ ? 

“Don’t you grow tired of it, little goddess? Women fighting women for  _ men _ — you seem so far from it all that I can’t help to be a little bit envious, to want to taste that for myself.”

Another breath of silence rests between them; Aphrodite begins to crawl over, knees digging deep into the sand. Her hair slips further past her shoulder, hearted tips making shapes in the sand. They’re close  — once more  — and Artemis can smell the thick scent of lavender on her skin, drowning her more than the ocean ever could.

Her body grows stiff, she wants to push her away, ram an arrow into her chest — anything to make her stop, but her heart beats against her ribcage. “Little dove,” Aphrodite whispers, stroking the side of her face. The expression in her glittering eyes is unreadable, but the tone of her voice drips sadness, want — and Artemis is convinced it's a want she can give, something more than sensual, something more than sexual.

Her muscles soften; her fingers brush against the curve of Aphrodite’s hip. The stickiness of wax of her fingers melts them together, no longer alone. The night grows still.

“Would you like to watch me hunt?” Artemis forces the words out.

Aphrodite’s eyes flicker from her shoulders, her collarbone, her lips, tracing the curve of her nose right up to her eyes. She moves closer to Artemis, like a friend with a well-kept secret and breathes: 

“Why, darling. I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

She pulls the string taut, seeing the silver of the arrow glint against the waves of the night. Above her, a gull cries — she pulls it back, back —

At the edge of the beach as if rising from the seafoam once more, is Aphrodite’s figure. Her back is faced toward her. Wisps of pink hair float around her body and the glimpse of her lower back, bare malleable flesh meat to touch, to grab, sings to Artemis like the hide of a doe. She lowers her bow, away from the gull.

Aphrodite turns to face her as Artemis lets go and the arrow sinks straight into her chest. Aphrodite screams a cry  — not of pain, but of surprise  —  before she collapses before the shore. Artemis lowers her bow, watching silver pour from the wound, watches fingers curl around the bow, grasping but not pulling.

She runs, not away but to. Her hands shake, her mouth goes dry  —  the taste of waxy corn now only a bitter memory as she runs over to her, feet sinking into the sand each step. There, Aphrodite lays with hair splayed out, naked body washed aglow with the light of the sea, a sound — keening, laughing  — rising from her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Artemis lowers onto one knee, clasping her hand over Aphrodite’s as she feels tears come to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” her voice grows hoarse. Aphrodite laughs: painful, longing. Another hand goes to Aphrodite’s neck, feeling the soft hair at the nape. She will be alright, she will return to Olympus just fine and yet Artemis apologizes over and over again like a prayer.

“Artemis — ” Silver tipped fingers grab her wrist as chrome continues to pour from her chest.

Artemis rips the arrow from her chest and watches Aphrodite disappear to be reborn, to remove any scars that may form from an arrow prick, to begin again and again as they always do. She envisions her renewed in a spring, a breath of life turned into a sigh and then a laugh.

Her fingers, covered in the blood of another goddess, grips the arrow. The tears drip off of her chin.

The waves ebb in a summer’s lullaby, subsiding from their earlier exuberance. A lone seagull cries from above.


End file.
